


In The End, We'll All Fall

by zombieutopia



Category: GHOST - Fandom, Ghost (Swedish Band), Ghost B.C., Original Work, the band ghost
Genre: Angels, Death, Demons, F/M, God - Freeform, Murder, Oral Sex, Religion, Sex, Smut, Some Plot, Vaginal Sex, breath play, sin - Freeform, writing to cure writers block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombieutopia/pseuds/zombieutopia
Summary: A priest comes face to face with proof of the divine.Important Note: This is definitely more of an original story than it is Ghost related fan fic, so my apologies if labeling it as such is a no-no. I put it under Ghost because its heavily inspired by Ghost content and I was listening to Meliora while writing this.





	In The End, We'll All Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little thing as a way to work through some minor writers block. If you have read or are reading my other story, you may notice some significant similarities. This was just my way of figuring a few things out.
> 
> With that being said: this is a completely different story and has no actual connection to "This Chapel of Ritual".

The cathedral was dark. Silent. The soft patter of her footfalls could barely lift such a deafening quiet. The sound merely seemed to drown in it and die. She walked slowly. Leisurely. Her bare feet creating the only dull sound in the immense, empty room.

As she made her way across the expanse of the stone floor her eyes roamed the dark eventually raising to seek out the only light that trickled in from above. Pale moonlight, thin and silvery, transformed the black and grey glass into various hues of reds, blues, and gold. The weak light touched little else, leaving the room below enveloped in velvety black.

She slowed her pace and stilled to a stop just as her toes brushed up against the the aisle runner. Her gaze fell from the lofty ceiling and settled into searching the dusty silhouettes of the altar stage at the other end of the aisle. She cocked her head to one side and waited, digging her thumbnail into the soft wood of the pew beside her.

Footsteps, rubber heeled and brisk, clicked against the stone as they drew nearer. She stood at the end of the aisle and silently watched as a priest, still dressed in all his accouterments, emerged from a doorway hidden off to one side of the room. He walked down the short hall and along the altar rails, pausing briefly to cross himself, before ascending the steps into the sanctuary. He rummage around in the dark tending to minor bits of housekeeping and preparation for the following day.

He completed his cursory cleaning and tossing a stack of bibles onto a nearby chair, turned his attention to the nave below. He descended back down a few steps before noticing the strange, shadowy figure standing in the dark.

His first thought was that someone, despite the impossibility, had moved one of the statues. The complete absence of movement lent credibility to the assumption but his memory couldn't bring forth any statute within the church that matched the shadow looming at the end of rows.

She watched him contemplate her existence and cautiously continue his approach before she once again looked up to the ceiling above causing her head to tilt slightly, shattering the illusion. She pretended to be preoccupied with the frozen caricatures of heavenly hosts as he recoiled at seeing what he had assumed was stone move. She dug her nail deeper into the wood, destroying the varnish.

“Um - Good evening….What are you doing standing here alone in the dark? How did you get into the church at this late hour? Do you need help?” The priest’s friendly young voice echoed off the domed walls as he slowly inched towards her. When she leveled her gaze directly at him he came to an abrupt halt. Her pale eyes gleamed at him visibly through the darkness and his stomach churned.

“Father.” Her husky voice slowly drew out the word. She resumed her slow stroll up the aisle towards him with a fluidity of movement that went beyond just simple grace. What little moonlight managed to hit the chapel floor slithered across her pale skin as she walked in his direction providing him with a full view of her naked curves and long ebony hair.

He took a few halting steps backwards. He tried to reason with himself: this was just a girl. A lost, disturbed girl that had wandered in during the church's open hours and hid. The low lighting was responsible for making her movements seem strange, her face too angular, her eyes too bright. This was the reason for his uneasiness. Strange people in the church at night was a logical cause for concern. He’d comfort the girl, call the cops, and send her on her way to help. Yet fear still insistently clung to his insides, eroding his more logical conclusions. It whispered deep in his mind that he was wrong.

“What are you doing in the church?” His voice started strong but rapidly lost its confidence.

“Why...I'm here to visit you, Father.” She cooed and closed the distance rapidly without seeming to move fast at all. He stumbled around the altar rails and back up the steps, trying to maintain some distance between them. Before he could maneuver around the altar that blocked his possible escape she gently laid a single, slender hand on his chest and forcefully crushed him up against it. Her silver eyes flashed as she took in the view of him.

“Mmmm...and what do we have to play with here?” She whispered and trailed a single pointed nail from just under his ear down along his jaw. When her finger made its way to the tip of his chin she gripped it between a finger and thumb, holding his head in place. She looked directly into his aqua green eyes as if searching his very soul. Her eyes shifted between metallic silver and an opalescent white but gave up nothing of her.

“Tsk tsk Father” she said with mock disappointment. “Plenty of Pride….Greed...even Envy swirling within you. Already buried so deep. Quite un-priestly of you, Father.” A wicked grin bloomed on her face. “But there is still plenty to play with. Maybe Wra-”

His breathing hitched as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Sweat broke out on his brow as his vision swam. He closed his eyes against the dizziness and swallowed the coppery taste that had filled his mouth. All he could smell was metal and shit. He shook, muscles clenching, against the burning heat welling up in his chest and stomach. His fingertips felt cold. Slick and sticky.

He opened his eyes to the church bathed in daylight. Bright, golden sunlight poured in from the windows above illuminating the cream colored stone, the achingly beautiful paintings and statues, and the mutilated corpses of parishioners strewn about in their Sunday dress. Their vivid blood splattered in viscous strings across the chapel walls and formed coagulated pools on the floor. A horrifying mixture of revulsion and pure satisfaction filled his head like drug as he raised his hands to find them gloved in gore. He felt it on his face and in his hair, dripping down his neck under his collar.

His stomach roiled with loathing. He hated the parishioners with their false piety and their skewed beliefs that a simple confession would cleanse them of the sins they had no intention of abandoning. He fervently hated them for no reason at all. His muscles spasmed against the fire coursing through his veins as the need - a raging, rampant desire that inhabited every cell within his body - to rip into the closest body with his bare hands overwhelmed every other thought.

“-th?” The vision faded as the last syllable crossed her lips. It hadn't even lasted the entirety of the word, mere fractions of a second, but had felt like days. He shivered in a cold sweat as his senses returned to the dark empty room that smelled of dust and dead flowers but the abhorrent scent of gore and excrement still lingering on his tongue. The absence of the emotion that had supplanted his very soul left him hollow. He felt weak, exhausted, helpless, guilty.

She smiled hungrily as she watch him consumed by the vision and it's after effects.  
“As delicious as that would be it's not really what you are yearning for, now is it? Shall we try Sloth instead? Gluttony?” He experienced a wave of total listless apathy that seeped into every limb followed by a gnawing starvation demanding to be fed by more than just food. But these sensations were just ghosts of the first. Fleeting and weak that dissipated long before he really lived them.

“Demon.” He hissed. “You can torture me all you wish but you have no real power.” Her smile deepened at his words. She continued to hold him in place by his chin as she leaned into him, her body pressing up against his and positioned her lips right over his ear.

“Is that what you think I am? Hm." She paused and let her amusement wash over him. "I know what you really need, Father.” She whispered intimately. Desire, pure unadulterated need, pulsed through him stronger than any vision, forcing the question completely out of his mind. He felt the length of her lithe body press firmly up against his. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to fight against it. His gasped a shaky breath as she ran her tongue along the ridge of his ear, down along his jaw. Her breath was warm against his throat as her hands travelled over his chest and stomach.

He began reciting the lord's prayer in his mind hoping for clarity, for salvation, but lost the words as her fingers found the button on his pants. She slowly undid them as she trailed kissed and rough bites along his neck down to his collar. Despite himself he felt the tingling, throbbing rush of blood flow into his cock. She felt him harden against her leg and viciously rolled her hips against him, creating friction between them. A whimpered crawled up his throat and found himself unsure if the feeble plea was for mercy or for more. Resisting her, fighting, felt like it was going to tear him to pieces. Images flashed through his mind of every carnal thing he had ever seen or heard of.

With a strangled sigh he raised his hands to her hips and paused there with urgent hesitation. She let his pants drop to the floor and slowly slid a single finger under the edge of his boxers. Every nerve was on edge as she ran her finger along the edge of his underwear. His hands dug into the flawless skin of her hips and crushed her to him almost against his will. The need for her eating away at his last reserves of willpower.

She flicked her tongue against his trembling lips and grabbed his cock through his boxers and gave it a single tug. His eyes flew open as he involuntarily pushed his hips forward against her hand. A sharp moan escaped him. She licked his lips again and smiled as one of his hands moved from her hip to the back of her head, crushing her mouth against his own. Their tongues knotted together as she pulled his boxers off and let them join his pants on the floor.

Breaking away she peered down at his half-lidded eyes and pushed him down onto the altar. Alarm bells screamed through his head as she continued to undress him but his conscious awareness of the profane act of fucking on the holy altar fled his mind as she ripped the last of his clothing away from him and kissed from his collarbone to the base of his aching cock. Her strong fingers grabbed ahold of him and began to slowly stroke. The waves of pleasure at finally being touched dissolved the last shreds of willpower within him. He bucked up against her hand and let out a lascivious groan as her lips brushed the head of his cock and slowly took him into her mouth.

It was over all too quickly as she pulled away leaving him panting and unbearably unsated. She slowly crawled over him and straddled his hips. He closed his eyes as his palms trailed up her thighs and grabbed her ass as she hovered over him.

Reaching down between them to hold him in place, she pushed herself down onto the length of him and his world reduced to the slick heat between her thighs. She began to rock her hips back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace. His abdomen clenched under her hands as he tried to thrust up into her. Finally, impatient with the slow pace she set, he firmly pulled her forward and began to mercilessly slam into her.

A few thrusts and his breath caught as the pressure in his groin released into a powerful orgasm that crashed through him in spasmodic waves. He tried to take a shuddering breath but was surprised to find her strong fingers wrapped around his throat cutting off his air. As his orgasm tapered off he continued to thrust at a near painful pace, feeling her slick walls forcefully clamp down around him. The orgasm did nothing at all to quell his desire but only seemed to heighten it. It felt as if he were starving and drowning all at the same time. She loosened her hold on his throat allowing him to take a long desperate breath.

He opened his eyes, the whites of them shining in the dark, as impossibly immense charcoal wings unfolded behind her and wrapped around them and the altar, blocking out what little light there had been.

“Dear God…” He whimpered, a little bit of sanity bleeding back into his lust addled mind. Her liquid silver eyes met his as she crawled off of him and tightened her grip around his throat, restricting his ability to breathe.

The insatiable manifestation of lust simply vanished like it had never before existed but he was left with the crystal clear memory of all that had been along with the physical marks to prove the memory true. His awareness hyperfocused in on the stickiness of his skin, the bruises that littered his body, the weak exhaustion, and his inability to take a full, deep breath. His mind, fully clear for the first time since he entered the chapel, obsessively replayed every vivid second. Dread - his first authentic emotion of the night - inundated him.

He looked up at the creature pinning him down and knew he was damned.

“God? You’re God, _Priest_ , is not here. You’re God has been dead for centuries and the only things that are now left in this world are my kind...and yours.” She growled in his ear. She maintained eye contact with him, watching the truth of her words needle their way into his mind. She saw true passionate despairing panic settle into his features.

She merely smiled down at him as she gradually increased the pressure on his delicate throat. He struggled, face turning a bright crimson red, until there was a jarring crunch as his windpipe collapsed followed immediately by his vertebrae. She watched impassively as the body sagged, limp and lifeless, across the altar.

“And we’re done playing by long dead rules.”

 

 

 


End file.
